The Greatest Wizard to Ever Live and His King
by Deansmycherrypie
Summary: Arthur comes back, and finds that Merlin is different. But can his presence help Merlin become whole again? A story where Merlin has a lot of secrets that Arthur can't find out, but it's not that easy to keep these things under lock and key when you share a one bedroom flat. Arthur must learn to adapt to modern times just as Merlin has to relearn how to keep his feelings at bay.
1. Chapter 1

Merlin watched as everything he had once known changed, and magic began to fade from the world. People began to forget, and the truths of his time were soon called myths, and magic, _real magic _was thought of as nothing more than a fairy tale. Months turned into years, then years to decades, and before he knew it, centuries had passed by. But thankfully, the story of Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table survived the journey into the modern world. As their legend was passed down, it began to change, and soon, almost everyone was telling a different version, but the same basic truth remained - Arthur was a hero and the best damn king there ever was, and that was all that needed to remain known. Merlin cared not if his name was remembered, but as fate would have it, it was.

His story was that of a great sorcerer, the best to ever exist, even. And to his great amusement, people always remembered one major thing about him - the beard. Soon, they were dressing him up as well, describing him as having worn a long blue cloak, and a blue hat with bright yellow stars. Merlin was even guilty of encouraging these ideas himself. How could you not?

Wars waged, and Merlin fought in some of them, making sure that the right side won. When he went to war, he posed as a man named Arthur Emrys, but when he traveled, he switched between many names. Sometimes Balinor, Lance, Elyan, Gwaine, Leon, Percival, or Gaius, but never would you hear someone call him Merlin. The name was too conspicuous, and frankly, it just reminded him of his past. Of the days when he and Arthur were together; a time when things were a little easier to bear, because he knew that he did not have to bear them alone. Everything is so different now - Merlin had no one by his side, no one to anchor him to this reality.

* * *

Merlin had been living in his new flat for a couple of months when it happened. A bright red butterfly flew through the window and landed atop his pillow. Tendrils of steam curled out from behind him as he opened the bathroom door. When he saw it, he slipped and nearly bashed his head open on the sink. Instead he landed smack in his ass, sliding a bit on the wet tiles. He sat there stunned for a moment, before he shakily got to his feet. Merlin approached the butterfly slowly, not wanting to scare it off before he got a good look at it. When he finally reached it, he held out his hand, and it flew straight into his palm. Merlin brought the vibrant creature closer to his face to examine it more thoroughly. The butterfly _was_ mostly red, but upon closer inspection, Merlin was able to see little gold spirals on its wings. In all his years of living, he has never seen a butterfly such as this. The butterfly gently flapped its wings before flying back out of the window.

Merlin stood there for a moment longer, pondering his next move before rushing to find clothes. He threw himself over the bed to grab a pair of pants before sprinting toward the door. Just before he was about to leave, Merlin grabbed his keys and a gray hoodie. Barley locking the door behind him, he stumbled down the steps in an attempt to catch up with the butterfly. When he finally got out of the building, he looked around frantically, searching for the beautiful creature. Then suddenly, out of nowhere, the butterfly flew right past his nose and down the street to his left. Racing after it, Merlin struggled to get his hoodie over his head so that he could to walk - let alone run – without the fear of running into something, or having someone run into him. The last thing that Merlin wanted was to get run over by a car when Arthur was so close to returning.

The butterfly is leading him to Arthur, and the fate of the United Kingdom. After quite a few blocks of cat and mouse, they finally came upon Lake Avalon. Merlin slowed his pace to a trot, not quite knowing what to do next. It's a Sunday night, so the odds of someone walking in at the worst possible moment are pretty low, but it wasn't enough to set Merlin's mind entirely at ease. You never know with the wandering college students, they don't care that it's a Sunday night, because for them, night translates roughly into "party".

Merlin caught sight of the butterfly once again, and started to walk faster, before he stopped entirely when it flew out over the lake. Merlin looked out into the darkness, hopeful for the best possible outcome – Arthur's return. If that didn't happen, then he would be absolutely crushed, and probably fall into another decade long depression.

He stood there for a moment longer before working up enough courage to whisper, "Arthur?" into the night-darkened waters before him. When a response didn't come, he moved a little closer to the lake, whispering the name of his lost friend once again. The sound of the water gently lapping against the shore was the only answer that he got. Merlin sighed and settled down for the night, Arthur would have been late for everything if not for Merlin's help, and it didn't look like this was going to be an exception. The only problem is Merlin can't help him this time - this is something that Arthur has to do alone.

Merlin must have dozed off sometime in the night, because the next thing he knew, he was jerking awake with a profound need to sneeze. He opened his eyes, and saw the butterfly again, but this time it was hovering right in front of his face. He jerked back in surprise and sneezed. Looking up, Merlin saw that the sun had begun to rise over the lake. Ripples had begun to form on the surface of the lake, which was strange because there wasn't so much as a gentle breeze. It was then and there that Merlin knew, without a doubt, that Arthur was coming back, and he was coming back _right now. _

The air was electric, so much so that Merlin could even hear it crackle when he moved. The wind picked up even more, and he pulled his hoodie tighter around him, shielding himself from the cold, if only slightly. Merlin's heart beat picked up in anticipation, at first skipping a beat, but then doubling all together. It had been so many years since they had seen each other, what if things had changed between them? What if Arthur was different? Merlin knew that he had changed enough for the both of them, but Arthur had been perfect as he was. A bit of a prat, yes, but he had been Merlin's prat, and he loved him for it.

Suddenly, a hand surged up from the water, but it was not unaccompanied, because in it, grasped as tightly as a dying man holds onto his last breath, was Excalibur. Merlin didn't wait to see any more before he pitched himself into the water. He swam with the same vigor of a man infinitely younger than him, until he reached Arthur, and began to fumble for a hold on him. His fingers strained to get a good grip on Arthur, because not only were they both soaked to the bone but Arthur was also _stark naked_.

A/N: I'm not British, in case you couldn't tell, so bear with me here. I have a bit more written, but I'll need time to edit it before putting it up here. Besides, I thought this was a pretty good spot to stop. What do you think?


	2. Chapter 2

After a bit more fumbling, Arthur was able to catch Merlin's hand with one of his own; Merlin held fast, and began to paddle them back to the shore. One arm was locked around Arthur's chest, pulling him along, while the other fought to keep them both afloat and moving toward the beach. They moved at the pace of a one-legged duck, but when they finally reached the shore, Merlin still had enough energy to pull them both into a standing position. Almost immediately after he was on his own two feet again, and supporting Arthur, Merlin tripped over a rock unseen to him. He fell, and with him came a still unsteady Arthur. Merlin landed flat on his back, and cursed his two left feet. He had fallen twice in a matter of a few hours, and was ashamed to say that it wasn't a new record, not in the least. They fell in a heap, Arthur landing on top of Merlin, as Merlin's head landed on top of another large rock. Merlin groaned as his vision was temporarily obscured by the white-hot pain of a head injury. A huge wave of dizziness made it impossible to move without further consequence – mainly nausea.

A soft sound above him called Merlin's attention away from the aching pain in his head back to the man lying on top of him. He looked up and saw that Arthur was shaking.

"Arthur?" Merlin asked worriedly. "Are you hurt?"

It was then that Arthur raised his head and looked at Merlin for the first time since his death, and he was smiling. Arthur's eyes were sparkling as if he hadn't spent the last thousand years at the bottom of a lake.

"You don't change do you, Merlin?" That was his response. Thousands of years spent waiting for him, and the first thing out of his mouth is a comment on Merlin's clumsiness? That was just so... Arthur.

Merlin began to laugh along with Arthur, and for the first time in _centuries, _he didn't have to fake it. And it felt good, really good, actually. He had missed it. Soon, they were holding onto one another for support when their lungs started to revolt against the air that they were trying to force into them. They were still gasping for breath when Merlin became fully aware of their situation. They were lying on top of each other in the light of the sunrise, soaking wet, and Arthur was currently nude. If anyone were to pass by... Merlin shook himself, both mentally and physically. No one could be allowed to pass by.

"Arthur, we can't stay here," Merlin said, already propping himself up on his elbows.

"Oh...Right," Arthur replied as he stood up. A light flush had spread through his entire body, clearly from all the laughing, but it did turn him a very distracting shade of pink.

"We're going to have to leave now," Merlin said, as he pulled off his hoodie and handed it to Arthur. "Put this on, and try not to look too inconspicuous."

Arthur held the item of clothing in his hands for a moment, before he had to ask, "Merlin, I may be wrong, but aren't you supposed to help me with this?"

"Oh, right. Well, come here then." Merlin repossessed the hoodie and beckoned Arthur closer. He stepped up and assumed his normal dressing position, bent over at the waist, arms outstretched. "No time," Merlin said as he put a hand flat against Arthur's chest and gently pushed him back up.

"Like this," Merlin said, as he pulled the hoodie over Arthur's head to demonstrate. "Come on, we have to go. Now."

Thankfully Merlin had bought the hoodie in an extra-large, so it settled right below Arthur's knees while standing. They scurried down the road – Merlin behind Arthur – pushing him along when he tried to stop and gawk at something with a quick, "later". If anyone was looking out of their window at five in the morning, they would probably be very confused by what they saw – a tall, dark-haired man with no shirt, hustling a broad, blonde man with no pants down the street. Not exactly a typical sight in this town.

They reached Merlin's flat in record time, but just when Merlin was about to follow Arthur through the door, he heard a throat being cleared behind him. Merlin turned on his heel and saw his neighbor, Mrs. Knight standing behind him, newspaper in hand. Since the moment that he had first moved into this flat, Merlin had liked Mrs. Knight. She had that motherly quality about her that welcomed everyone in with a warm hug and a kiss to the cheek. And she was constantly inviting him over to dinner, giving him advice, or trying to help him in one way or another. One time, when the power went out, Mrs. Knight had knocked on his door to check in on him and give him an extra flashlight, just in case he was in short supply. Merlin hadn't needed it, not with all the candles he had lying around his flat, but he'd accepted it anyway. It had been thoughtful and kind, and had, quite frankly, caught him off guard. Merlin never got around to returning the flashlight – he kept forgetting – but it sat on the top of his dresser, half covered with books and other stray papers.

One day, when he was wandering around after the lovely lasagna dinner she had made for them, he found out why she treated him with such care. Merlin picked up a picture frame that was set on her glass coffee table and looked into the eyes of a little boy, certainly no more than eight years old. A younger version of Mrs. Knight had the boy locked in her arms, laughing, but visibly holding him back from something. She looked happier than Merlin had ever seen her.

When Mrs. Knight had finished the dishes - she had insisted on doing them herself, no matter how many times Merlin offered to help her, saying that he was her guest and she would not have a guest do her housework - she came into the living room to find him holding the picture. He looked at her with confusion for a moment before she sighed, the small, resigned sound of someone who was very tired. Merlin knew the sound well, had even heard it escape his own lips from time to time.

"That's my son, James," she explained, smiling in remembrance. "He was the sweetest little boy, and everyone was always fighting to be friends with him at school."

Merlin didn't doubt it, because the boy had a very friendly face, and if he took after his mother at all, then he was bound to be a very likable person as well.

"James looked just like his father; he took that picture, you know. We just came back from the ice-cream shop, and my husband was home, which was a surprise because he usually worked very late, you see. And James was so happy to see his father there, holding the camera, waiting for us to come home. He snapped the picture right before I let James run to him. When he tackled his father he nearly broke the camera too, but in that moment, it didn't seem that important, you know?"

She had paused, moving closer before she took the picture from him, and began to fiddle with the back. Dust coated her hand, and after a while of working at the little metal pieces that kept it in place, she finally got it open. Mrs. Knight took a picture out from behind the one that was showing through the glass. It was small and rectangular; she held onto it for a moment, running her thumb over it once, before she handed it to Merlin. It was a photo of a man, lounging on a red couch with a cat tucked into the crook of his arm. He looked to be in the middle of laughing when the picture was taken.

"My husband," she explained. "William."

Merlin looked at the man, his dark curly hair identical to that of his son's; they even had the same smile. He didn't look like the kind of man to just abandon his wife and son. Speaking of which, where was their son? Merlin had so many questions, but he didn't know exactly how to ask, or if he even should.

"Sweetie, your face shows everything you're thinking," Mrs. Knight said suddenly, smiling a little. Merlin handed her back the photo and she placed it in its previous spot. Merlin figured that must have been an okay for him to ask, so he took a deep breath, and did.

"What happened? You all looked so happy."

"A fire happened. I was out buying him a watch. I had seen him eyeing it the week before, when we were shopping. Our ten year anniversary was in a couple of days, and I wanted him to have something special, that stood out from all the other gifts, you know? But when I came back, the house was just a pile of smoking ash on the ground." Her eyes looked through him and into the past. "I was so confused when I got out of the car and a fireman stopped me. They were still putting that police tape around the perimeter of the house. When they told me… I actually hit the man holding me back, broke through the tape..." She stopped, her eyes beginning to get glassy with unshed tears. She took a blinked a few times and took a deep breath before continuing, "...and threw myself into the ashes."

"They let me be for a while too, just stood back and let me cry." A little huff of humorless laughter escaped her. "I guess they didn't want me punching anyone else. But then it started to rain. Just like in one of those stupid romance movies. I couldn't believe it. When they came again, I let them take me away without a fight. They even wrapped me in one of those blankets, the ones meant for shock?" Merlin nodded to show that he knew what she meant. "And that's it, my family was gone."

"I'm so sorry."

"Please don't… I know you lost someone too; there's no need to feel bad for me."

Merlin opened his mouth to reply, but she cut him off again. "I can see it in your face, your eyes especially. You don't have the eyes of a normal twenty-something year old. They are the eyes of someone who has both lost and seen a great deal in their life. And trust me, I know. I see the same expression in _my_ eyes every time that I look in the mirror."

Merlin bowed his head, but before he could raise it again, she was there, wrapping her slim arms around his waist. Merlin hugged her back; life had been far too cruel to both of them. Then they broke apart and Mrs. Knight ushered Merlin onto her red love seat.

"It helps to talk about it, you know. Keeping all of those emotions bottled up isn't good," she assured him, before sitting down on the other side of the loveseat. Mrs. Knight outstretched a hand and put it on his knee, a slightly comforting gesture. "Talk to me sweetie." Merlin looked down at her hand before he turned his attention to his own. Without realizing it, he had started to pick at a stray thread that was coming out of the armrest. He stilled his hand before laying it on top of Mrs. Knight's. He took a deep breath and looked her in the eyes; maybe it _would_ be better if he were to her in.

And he did, he told her about his father and mother, his friends, and lastly Arthur. She sat patiently through it all, offering comfort whenever his voice started to shake and his breath hitch. He told her about everything that Arthur and him had been through, well, everything that wouldn't make him sound crazy. He told her about how, right before Arthur died, Merlin had revealed the biggest secret of his life to him, and Arthur had accepted him for who he was. And not only that, but he had thanked Merlin for everything that he had ever done for him, and with his dying breath no less. Merlin finished his story with how he has been alone ever since. After saying everything out loud, he did feel better, if only slightly.

"So, that's why you sleep with all of those different people?" She asked in the moment of silence after the Merlin's confession. "Loneliness."

He stared at her, mortification coloring him red, starting at his ears and working its way down. "How do you..?"

She smiled a sad, knowing smile. "Anyone within shouting distance of your flat knows, sweetie."

Merlin put his head into his hands, trying to hide the color that he _knew _was making him look like a freaking lobster. He didn't know what to say to that; it's not like he had been trying to keep it secret, but he sure as hell didn't want all of England knowing what he was doing.

"It's not helping, is it?" She didn't sound like she was judging him - it was more like she was sympathizing with him. "I did it too, for a time. I thought it would help, but if anything, it just made me feel emptier."

Merlin shot her a shocked look, surprised that she was admitting something so private to him, a relative stranger, whose name she didn't even know. She had never even asked, just started calling him things like 'sweetie' or 'dear', and he was glad for that fact. Merlin didn't want to unnecessarily lie to her, and when he didn't offer a name, she didn't push him for one. That was one of the many things that he liked about her - her ability to understand him so clearly.

"It isn't," he admitted. "But I don't know if I have the strength to stop right now."

"I know, and it's not going to be easy, but when you're ready, you'll know."

From that moment on, Merlin began to reduce the number of people he brought home, until one day, it stopped all together. It had been a week - a full seven days - since his last hookup, a fact that Merlin was actually pretty proud of, thank you very much. But that would explain why Mrs. Knight was looking at him as she was now, worry creasing her features; maybe she thought he was going through a relapse.

"Another one, dear? And this early in the morning? Most people are probably still sleeping," she said with a mischievous quirk to her lips. Great, now she was just screwing with him.

Merlin faltered, "Oh, um, good morning Mrs. Knight. No, it's – he's not another one..."

Her forehead scrunched up even more, and she suddenly became very serious. If she wasn't careful those frown lines were going to become permanent, and that was something _Merlin_ knew from experience. "Do be careful, dear. And tell him that, if he hurts you, he'll have to deal with me."

It was at that point that Arthur came out from inside the flat, still wearing only the hoodie. "Another what? Hurt you? Who is this woman? What _is _she talking about, Merlin?"

Merlin spun around to face Arthur, a flush of shame already beginning to slide onto his cheeks. "Nothing. It's nothing, Arthur."

Mrs. Knight's eyes narrowed before widening considerably. "Arthur?" She questioned. "The Arthur?"

Arthur seemed to swell a little under her gaze. "Why yes, Arthur Pend-"

"Arthur!" Merlin cut him off before he could say anymore. "Please, just go inside for now, I need to talk to Mrs. Knight for a moment," he turned around as he said this, trying to convince Arthur to listen with his eyes. He wouldn't speak to Arthur like that under normal circumstances, but Merlin hoped that he understood that this was not a normal circumstance. "I'll explain later." Arthur looked at him, then at Mrs. Knight, and back to him. Finally, he nodded his head, and went inside. Merlin quickly shut the door behind him and turned around to face Mrs. Knight.

"Yes," he answered her earlier question. "That's him."

"I thought he was dead?"

"So did I."

"Then this is fate, sweetie. The gods are giving you another chance; you should tell him how you feel."

"Maybe, but I can't tell him when I know that he doesn't feel the same way."

"What do you mean, dear?"

"He was married, Mrs. Knight. He was married and he loved his wife more than he valued his own life. Hell, everyone did, she was amazing. She was my friend."

"Come here," she beckoned him over. Merlin nervously complied, unsure of what she was going to do or say. But instead of saying anything, she pulled him in for a hug. She gently stroked his hair as he hugged her back with all of his might, communicating his feelings through the touch, more than he could have with words.

"Everything is going to work out, I know it is."

"How could you know that?"

"Call it an old woman's intuition – like when I know it is going to rain – I can feel it in my bones."

"Okay," Merlin sighed. "Okay."

They broke apart and headed back to their doors. His hand on the doorknob, Merlin turned around and called out her name. She turned around, already half way through the doorway.

"Yes… Merlin?"

"Thank you."

She smiled as a way of response, before they both turned away and went into their respective flats. If she thought there was anything strange about his name being Merlin and Arthur being, well, Arthur, then she didn't say. Merlin just hoped she put it down to a weird role-play thing between them or something. If not, things might get really complicated really fast.

A/N: Okay, so I really wanted to have a Mrs. Hudson type character for the boys to interact with. And I liked the idea of her name being kind of ironic, so there you go. She might come into play a little more later on, but I'm still tossing ideas around. What do you think? Oh, and thank you guys for your lovely comments, alerts, and favorites. Keep 'em coming!


	3. Chapter 3

Arthur wandered around the flat aimlessly, thinking about Merlin. And how could he not when Merlin had looked like he was about to fall to his knees and beg him to go inside. But why hadn't he wanted that woman – Mrs. Knight, was it? – to know Arthur's last name? Arthur wasn't blind, he had seen the urgency in the way that Merlin had handled things, and knew that there would be no arguing the point. And even though he didn't understand exactly why Merlin had acted as he did, Arthur trusted his judgment. Arthur didn't know how things where in this time period, or if he is supposed to keep a low profile, but he did know that his best, and only, chance at surviving in this new world was with Merlin's help.

Even though Arthur was confused as to why Merlin and him hadn't yet talked about some things. For one, everything they had said and done when Arthur was at death's door. He hadn't been thinking that he was going to come back to life, and so when he told Merlin to hold him, it was because he was selfish and wanted to spend his last moments in the arms of someone he loved. And he enjoyed it too, because he was dying, and there was no way for Merlin to save him and no way for there to be repercussions to his actions.

Until there _was_ a way, and he began to come back. It had been painful, even more so than death had been. Death was more like fading away, with the pain of your wounds ebbing little by little before they disappeared entirely. And then you were left with a few moments of, not comfort, but as close as you can get, before your heart finally stopped beating. But coming back, that was something far less merciful.

It had felt like he was being squeezed from all directions, forcing the air into his lungs and blood into his brain. Imploding didn't even begin to explain how it felt to come back to life. And with each passing moment the pain came into sharper relief, and everything became more focused than it had been since he entered the fog.

Arthur felt a cold, yet familiar, weight in his hand. He glanced down to check, but all the muscles in his neck flared to life, sending shooting pain from his head to the tip of his toes. But look down he did, and what he saw, was the watery glint of a sword, untouched by the hand of time.

Arthur began to surge upward, from no cause of his own actions, and he was lifted out of that blissful fog that didn't allow for thought or pain, just quiet existence. Never really here nor there, everywhere but nowhere all at once, acquitting for nothing and everything. That had been his existence – thoughtless, painless, and emotionless. And it had been nice, just sort of drifting through time.

But sometimes he would get snatches of things, like the color blue or the sound of laughter, but he was always too far away to reach them before they disappeared. And even if he did fight back, if he did push against the tide to try to find out where these things were coming from, or why, he was shoved back into his place. And all the fight was drained from him, along with the memories of the things that he was fighting for.

It was up until the point when Merlin pulled him out of the lake that Arthur started to remember those things. The blue he had seen, it was the exact shade of Merlin's eyes. And when they began to laugh after the fall, the second piece of the puzzle finally clicked into place. Merlin had always been there with him, even in that world of fog, even when Arthur was barely even there himself.

Arthur trailed his finger over a picture that Merlin had hanging on the wall. His finger traveled the swirls in the water and the rays of the sun that were shining through the splits in the clouds. It was incredibly realistic looking, and Arthur marveled at its beauty. It took a moment for the scene before him to really register. It was Lake Avalon during a sunset. Arthur was just beginning to wonder who had painted it when Merlin came into the room. Arthur turned around when he heard Merlin begin to approach.

A finger still lingered on the painting when Arthur asked, "Who made this?"

Merlin tilted his head to the side to see behind Arthur, but when he saw the painting, he blushed slightly. "Oh, uh, me, actually."

Arthur puzzled over Merlin's shyness. It's a beautiful piece and Merlin ought to be proud of himself, boasting even. "It's Lake Avalon at sunset, isn't it?"

"Yes," Merlin said smiling. "But at sunrise, not sunset. I prefer beginnings over endings."

"It's beautiful, Merlin. It's almost as if you have a window overlooking the lake, instead of a painting. I didn't know that you could paint like this."

"Well, I had a lot of time on my hands, when I no longer had to keep you from dying every twenty minutes," Merlin joked.

"Are you sure you didn't become a fool as well as a painter?" Arthur laughed.

"I'm sure you've thought that I was a fool long before now, Arthur."

"And right you are, Merlin. Though the bravest fool I've ever known. I feel that I should thank you again."

"You really needn't-," Merlin started only to be cut off by Arthur.

"No, I must, and probably should for the rest of my days."

"Arthur…"

Arthur moved away from the painting, and laid his hands on Merlin's shoulders, squeezing gently. "Merlin, thank you. For everything – every time you have saved me, with or without the use of your magic. And thank you for waiting for me, even though I'm sure you didn't have any certainty that I would return, because even I didn't know until a couple of hours ago."

"You're my friend, Arthur. I couldn't just sit by and do nothing. And with or without destiny I will continue to fight for you, and for the future of Avalon."

Arthur looked at Merlin as he studied the floor, willing him to look him in the eyes as he spoke. When Merlin stopped speaking and _still _didn't look up, Arthur began to get frustrated. Who knew an all-powerful wizard, capable of nearly anything the mind could fathom, would be so ridiculous. Fed up, Arthur pulled Merlin into a hug, the kind of hug that he was too weak to give the last time they had seen each other. It was a hug that spoke volumes for both of them – telling of their strength, friendship, and dependence on one another. But what the hug didn't need to say, was how much Merlin missed Arthur, and the relief at their reunion. They truly were two sides of the same coin, because one without the other was like the sun without the moon – incomplete.

A/N: I thought it would be ironic for Merlin to have a knack for painting because Bradley is the more… artistically inclined one. Haha. Thank you guys for everything, and sorry that this took so long to post. My internet was down all week and the guy who was supposed to come yesterday blew me off. Any who, what do you think?


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